


Seven Snapshots

by purajobot935



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Community: prowlxjazz, Fluff, Genderbending, M/M, Mischief, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Earth Transformers, Rating May Change, Sexy Times, Some Fics Might be Spoilery, Transformers as Humans, prowlxjazz Anniversary Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Collection of one-shots written for the ProwlxJazz LJ Comm's 7th Anniversary.<br/>Ratings will differ based on fic and will be indicated. Highest rating is an M.<br/>Mostly takes place in Pre-Earth, G1 and IDW (RiD) verse. Potential spoilers will be warned for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Explanation

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Falsely Accused  
> Rating: PG  
> No Spoilers. Pre-Earth.

**Some Explanation**

"So I thought I saw your other half down in Lower Iacon last night."

Prowl stopped in his tracks and turned to face the other mech - Smokescreen if he recalled the name right, another Praxian.

"He may have had business down there. What of it?" Prowl asked. 

"Must have been some pretty interesting business given the establishment."

"What establishment?" Prowl's frown deepened. "I'm not in the mood for games, Smokescreen."

"And I'm not playing any." Smokescreen inclined his head. "Ever heard of the _Rusty Spring_?"

"I know it's a nightclub. Jazz has been known to visit a few of them now and then. Why is it news?"

"If they're calling it a nightclub these days." Smokescreen sounded amused. "You've never been in there have you?"

"Like I said, clubs are more Jazz's scene than mine."

"Then you'd best go see for yourself. Don't know about you, but if I were in a relationship with someone, the last place I'd wanna be seen in would be the _Rusty Spring_."

Prowl had heard enough. He turned to walk away. "I trust Jazz."

=====

And he did. He did trust Jazz, or that was what he told himself. Their relationship was still new after all. Still that one thought nagged at him - Smokescreen of all people was warning him of the club, and given the mech's own vices, maybe there was something to take note of. He figured the best thing he could do was ask Jazz directly where he'd been the night before. 

So ask he did. 

"Went down to Blurr's for a drink with some friends, actually," Jazz replied. "Why're you asking?"

Prowl schooled his face into a neutral mask at the lie. "I see. Because you came back rather late, and I worried."

Jazz smiled. "Sweet of ya, Prowl, but I can take care of myself. Been doing it all my life after all."

"So a drink with friends."

"That's right."

"Very well." Prowl walked out of the room leaving a rather confused Jazz in his wake, some anger mounting that Jazz had the bearings to lie to his face. After saying he loved him at that!

He spent the rest of the evening holed up in his room, on the balcony trying not to think of the manner in which Jazz might have betrayed his trust, ignoring the knocks on the door that went away after about five different attempts. Not long after that he saw a familiar black-and-white figure emerge from the same building, transform, and take to the road. 

Prowl wasn't sure what possessed him, but a few minutes later he was on the road just far enough behind Jazz that he could see the mech without being outright spotted himself. As he expected, they both ended up at the _Rusty Spring_ , though to his surprise, Jazz drove right past the entrance and went around to the back of the building, to a restricted area that he was allowed into.

Knowing he could not gain the same access without giving himself away, Prowl returned to the front of the club and spent the next few moments deciding whether or not he wanted to go in and see what Jazz was up to.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him and he transformed and walked through the doors.

=====

Quite frankly he didn't know what he'd hoped to find from the place. Given what Smokescreen had told him, he figured he might find Jazz in the middle of an orgy, or giving someone a highly charged lap dance, or even intimately fragging another bot. 

What he saw however exceeded his wildest imaginings, because there on the stage was his lover, legs wrapped around a pole and bent upside down, doing what Prowl assumed was gyrating to the too-loud music that pounded through the club. 

The crowd cheered his every acrobatic move as they threw credits at his feet, yet all That went through Prowl's mind in that moment was, "Slag, he's quite flexible." They were not the words of a love-smitten youngling either. Jazz had a grace when he danced that was quite unmatched. 

Somewhere through his routine, Jazz made optical contact with him, and Prowl saw the wide grin falter ever so slightly, even as his body barely reacted to the obvious surprise of finding his partner in the crowd. The Praxian mech smiled reassuringly and gave a slight nod. 

There was definitely a lot of explaining to do. 

=====

He waited for Jazz by the back doors, the images from earlier that night still quite fresh in his processor. The other black-and-white appeared soon enough and made a beeline to where Prowl was standing. 

"What're you doin' here, Prowl? You're supposed to be back at the apartment." Jazz sounded more than a little flustered. 

"I was curious as to where you were going."

"'Cause you didn't believe me." There was a bit of hurt in Jazz's voice. "Well slag, mech, that's reassuring t'know you had to follow me 'cause you couldn't trust my word."

Prowl frowned slightly. Yes he had jumped to conclusions, but Jazz wasn't completely guilt-free either. "That's because you lied to me, Jazz! You told me you were at Blurr's club last night, but you were really here weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was. And y'know why? 'Cause Blurrn owns the place! He bought it off the old owners a couple of weeks ago and he's been trying to do it up right. He knew I had a past as a dancer so he asked if I could help out to raise some credits for the renovation. I said yes, because he's my friend. Friend, Prowl. Not like I'm fragging him or anything."

Doorwings wilted on Prowl's back. "Why didn't you just tell me all that to begin with?"

Jazz snorted. "Oh yeah, that would have gone over well: hey Prowl, don't mind me, I'm just gonna be out dancin' on a friend's pole."

Prowl shifted uncomfortably. "I see your point." He sighed. "And I'm sorry, Jazz. I shouldn't have jumped to the worst possible conclusion."

The other mech softened then. "S'alright. No harm done, but Prowl..." Jazz took a white hand in his black one. "I've got a lotta things in my past that might come out sometime in the future. Heck I might even bring a few up myself. Thing is, whatever it might be, it doesn't mean I'm cheatin' on ya. I would never do that."

"I know." Prowl groaned. "I know that, and again, I'm sorry I accused you of doing something you were not. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Something nice to drink back home would be good. I'm famished from all that dancin'."

Prowl gave his hand a squeeze and without letting go, turned to walk down the street with him. "So," he said at length. "I saw you on that pole. Exactly how flexible are you?"

Jazz chuckled a little cheekily. "Well, m'love, that's for me t'be knowing and you t'be finding out."

"Oh believe me, after that little display I just saw? I intend to."

~ END.


	2. Move On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sinking Deeper  
> Rating: G1  
> Verse: IDW (RiD);
> 
> Sometimes Prowl doesn't know when to give up. Good thing Jazz doesn't know either.
> 
> Cameo by Chromedome and Rewind.

**Move On**

Jazz heard the shouts before he walked in, wondering what in the Pit was going on now. Bar brawls were common, but this one sounded especially vehement in its intensity and he had a sinking feeling in his fuel tanks - as he spotted flashes of color - he knew who was involved. It was confirmed when he found his path blocked by a certain diminutive archivist. He looked down questioningly.

The smaller bot was undaunted as he regarded the former special ops agent. "I'll grab my bot if you grab yours."

"He's not my bot."

"No, but I've seen the way you look at him. You'd actually be doing everyone a favor if you said something to him."

"Ain't your concern, man. Now, what the frag happened?"

Rewind let out a long-suffering sigh. "Prowl pushed. Domey pushed back. Prowl said something nasty, Domey lost his temper. Prowl pushed again, Domey took a swing and things just went to slag from there."

"What was it this time?" Jazz started to push his way through the crowd, clearing a path for the Minibot so he wouldn't accidentally get knocked over and stepped on by errant feet.

"Same as always: Prowl wants Domey to use his needles again. He doesn't care about what it does to him after he's used them. He doesn't have to wake up in the middle of the night to screaming and watch someone he cares about go through that pain."

Jazz understood where Rewind was coming from, empathized even, but he still considered Prowl a friend and didn't want to see him completely dragged through the mud. "Maybe Chromedome should get a bit more spine and learn to say "no"."

Rewind gave a humorless laugh. "You think Prowl's satisfied with a "no"? Why do you think he pushed in the first place?"

Before Jazz could answer, Rewind had dived into the fray, wrapping his small arms around one of Chromedome's legs as he tried to push him away from Prowl. His back turned, he didn't notice the swing Prowl had already aimed at Chromedome's side, and Jazz knew that if any harm came to the archivist by way of Prowl, there was no way he was getting the tactician out in one piece. With no other option, he stepped in between them and took the blow in his own mid-section, stumbling back and almost falling over.

The fight ceased. Rewind used the moment to push Chromedome away and at the sight of his endura's visor blazing in anger, the mnemosurgeon backed off and allowed himself to be led outside. Jazz could hear Rewind's admonishment even as the doors closed behind them. He gingerly touched the dent on his side, mindful of Prowl's - and everyone else's - attention now on him.

"Unless your name's Prowl, y'all better have some other business needs takin' care of," he said.

Bots dispersed finally leaving him and Prowl alone. Prowl frowned at him and turned to walk away, but Jazz was having none of it, catching hold of his arm and stopping him.

Prowl looked down at his hand. "Let go, Jazz."

"The slag I am. What the frag is up with you getting into bar fights now? And for what?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Don't gimme that slag. I'm one of the few that bothers to understand you lately. Y'gotta let him go, man! It's been eons; he's moved on from ya. Three mechs since whatever happened between you happened. Rewind's the fourth. If that don't tell ya that he's not coming back I don't know how else to get it into your processor."

Prowl pointed to the door through which the pair had gone. "He has talents we need; that the Autobots need. He can't let them go to waste."

"We or you, Prowl? And what he does with his "talents" ain't your call to make. Move on, man!" Jazz shook his head as Prowl continued to look towards the door. "Primus, you're so obsessed with what ya can't have that you can't even see when other bots are interested in you."

The Autobot tactician's glance ticked back to him. "You said yourself very few even bother to try to understand me, why should I care if someone else is interested in me?" He tilted his head at the sudden unreadable expression on Jazz's face. 

Jazz sighed. "'Cause then ya just might stop envying and resenting what Chromedome's got and actually experience it for yourself." He cupped Prowl's dented and bleeding face in his hands and kissed him gently, and for the second time that night, the bar went silent.

Prowl stiffened against him, caught off guard and a little unsure of what to do next, but Jazz didn't hold on for too long, and let him go, stepping back and regarding him for a moment. "Idiot," he murmured for Prowl's audios only. "We coulda had something pretty cool."

He turned and headed for the door, knowing he would probably regret kissing the other mech come morning, but that had seemed the only way to get it through to Prowl that it was time to stop sinking deeper into resentment and get on with living his life. 

A hand spun him around and he came face to face with a pair of intense blue optics. 

"Perhaps we still can," Prowl said. "If you can find it in yourself to give me chance."

Jazz sized him up, trying to see if he was being sincere. At the moment he looked just a bit pathetic, still bleeding from a couple of cuts on his face where Chromedome has managed to land a few hits. Jazz summoned an old polishing cloth and started to dab at them to try and clean him up. 

"I can't give you an answer now. Not after what I've seen tonight, but ask me again once you've got your head on straight and I might just say okay."

"Jazz..." Prowl reached out to touch him and Jazz winced when he brushed the dent in his side. 

"That's why. No, Prowl. Enough for tonight."

Prowl watched him go, not following. It didn't matter. He always got what he wanted in the end. 

~ END.


	3. In Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Change Your Mind  
> Rating: PG (Brief implied sexual content)  
> Verse: IDW (RiD)  
> May contain spoilers for RiD 31 and 32.
> 
> Prowl knows there's only one mech he can trust to watch his back. Does Jazz still care enough to do it?

**In Confidence**

"No." Jazz's answer was as flat as his tone. 

"You're the only one well-versed enough with the place." Prowl held his gaze. "Especially now that Bumblebee is gone."

"Ask Mirage."

"Mirage and Bluestreak have signed on with Rodimus' crew. Utter madness if you ask me."

"I didn't."

The former Enforcer sighed. "You know I wouldn't be asking you if I had no other choice."

Jazz's visor dimmed in what Prowl knew was a frown. "If he wants me on the team so bad, why doesn't Optimus ask me himself?"

"Because I beat him to it." Prowl shook his head and sat down on a small chair. "He's going to ask you, later, at some point, but I need to know your answer first."

"So you can save him the trouble of asking?"

"Jazz! Why are you being so difficult about this?!"

"Because you're asking me to do something - to go someplace that I'd sworn never to set foot on again! I killed a human, Prowl, something I'd sworn never to do, and I aimed that gun at him and willingly pulled that trigger. Do you even know what that feels like!?"

"I won't profess to know, no, but Jazz, you did it to save Bumblebee. The man was corrupt. We trusted him and he let us down. No one holds it against you."

"I hold it against myself."

"Then perhaps it's time you forgave yourself instead. You merely did what you had to do for the greater good."

Jazz shook his head. "Is that how you sleep at night after you've manipulated people into doing your work? Is this your way of manipulating me, too?" He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, at the hurt look Prowl levelled at him. "Slag, I'm sorry. That was outta line."

"No, you're right, for the most part, but I would never manipulate you."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're the only one I can rely on to be there for me if things go to the Pit." Prowl stood and went over to him. "You're the only one who understands why we do some of the things we do, however morally wrong it may seem at the time."

The musician still refused to meet his gaze. "How do you know I won't completely lose it once I get there. All those humans around..." He couldn't suppress the small shudder that rattled his plating. And the Prowl's hand was on his arm. When had he gotten that close?

"I would never put you in that kind of situation if I didn't think you would be able to handle it."

"How do you know I can?"

"I've seen you handle worse." Prowl was close enough for Jazz to feel the unspoken words in his energy field. "Please, Jazz. There's no one else's hands I would rather place my life in." And right there - those little bits of emotion that most people doubted Prowl even had. "Or my spark."

Jazz felt his own field mesh with Prowl's despite himself. It was a familiar and sometimes even comforting presence. He knew Prowl could feel his own emotions playing out - "Y'need to stop sayin' slag like that, man" - and read him like the proverbial book.

So Prowl's kiss, when it finally came, wasn't entirely unexpected nor unwelcome, though he felt Prowl's slight surprise at having it returned. 

=====

“Y’need to stop relying on me to drag your aft out of the messes you orchestrate,” Jazz said as he lay curled up with the other mech on his berth.

“You’re the only one that would. I figure everyone else would say I had it coming and leave me to rust.” Prowl’s fingers lazily traced patterns on Jazz’s plating.

Jazz only sighed. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?”

“Is that a yes?”

The musician pressed a kiss to Prowl’s lips. “It’s a: I’ll see what Optimus says and then consider.”

The tactician considered this. “Better than nothing.” He had Jazz’s hips straddled in an instant. “Now, where were we?”

~ END.


	4. Late Night Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Remembering Times Past  
> Rating: G  
> Verse: G1
> 
> Jazz is having a bit of a rough night. Prowl decides bringing up the past might help cheer him up.

**Late Night Conversations**

Sometimes on clear nights Prowl liked to forego sleep in favor of scaling up the side of their dormant volcano to a particular flat ledge he'd found, and look up at the multitude of stars overhead. It gave him a chance to reflect on things, like why he was still part of this war and this faction, why he still continued to put mechs' - friends' - lives in danger, knowing full well that one day some of them might not come back.

Sometimes, if he sat out here long enough, he could even make his peace with that fact. 

Nicer, of course, were the nights when he had a certain saboteur as company, and as luck would have it, tonight was one of those nights.

"I'm a bit surprised to see you here before me," he said as he lowered himself to sit on the ledge. "Normally you're the one that seeks me out."

The other black-and-white didn't look over. "I needed some peace and quiet for a while."

Prowl tilted his head and studied his Third-in-Command. "Is something the matter, Jazz?" From the other's posture it was quite obvious that something was, but Prowl was curious to know exactly what.

Jazz hitched a shoulder. "Just…sometimes you try your best and it ain't enough y'know? People still insist on goin' out there and killin' each other."

"Did something happen on patrol?"

"Blue and I ended up in the middle of a gang shoot-out. Innocent people got hurt; few kids died. Blue took a bullet in his chassis that nicked a fuel line. He didn't tell me until we were halfway back on the road home and I noticed him fallin' back. Coulda lost him, too."

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine. Managed to do a field patch till we got back to medical. Ratchet wasn't as nice though."

"What of the shoot-out?"

"Cops broke it up with our help. I don't get it, Prowl! They blame us for getting them killed whenever they end up in the crossfire, but they still go out and start shooting each other. You'd think they would've learned from our screw-up."

Prowl touched his shoulder and they turned to look up at the stars again. They both knew the other was momentarily thinking of Cybertron. Jazz's shoulders slumped a litte more and Prowl gently rubbed over his roof, trying to think of some way to cheer the other up. It was usually the other way around.

"Do you remember our first month under Sentinel Prime?" He asked at length.

Jazz snorted. "Pompous git. I remember we dumped that bucket of green paint on his head in the rec room, after he ordered us to do sewer duty."

"I recall we were put on said sewer duty because we disobeyed his order to leave those civilians and that settlement unprotected and evacuate."

"I'll admit I wasn't all that sad when he got killed."

"Was anyone?" Prowl asked. "I reckon the Decepticons did us a favor by taking him out."

Jazz gave a wry smile. "Did _us_ a favor, too. He was gonna have us kicked outta the army on the grounds that we were plotting against him."

"You never told me that."

"Didn't wanna stress you out even more. I know you were busy tryin' to get Optimus into Command somehow. Turned out well in the end."

"It did," Prowl agreed. "And so will this. Don't worry so much. That's my job."

"Yeah well you and I both need a holiday from our jobs. Tired of it bein' nothin' but death and misery all the time. I mean, I know it's a war and all, it's just... I'd rather not see it when there's not even a battle on."

"I understand."

Somehow Jazz knew he did, and leaned against his shoulder as Prowl's arm wrapped around him in a comforting hug. 

"Jazz?"

The other black-and-white gave a grunt in return as an acknowledgment that he was listening. 

"After Optimus took command, we never did carry on the tradition did we?"

The saboteur sat up and gave the tactician a look. "And what tradition would that be?"

"The one we started with Sentinel Prime."

Jazz stared at him for a moment, trying to assess if Prowl had finally blown his processor. "You wanna prank the Prime..."

Prowl merely smiled. "I think it would be good for troop morale if they could see that their officers know how to have a bit of fun now and then, too." He nudged Jazz's shoulder. "What do you say?"

"I say, just like old times huh? I could work with that!"

"Excellent, then here's what I was thinking we could do."

~ END.


	5. Stamp of Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Breaking the Rules  
> Rating: G  
> Verse: G1
> 
> Ratchet and Wheeljack recall an old tradition. Too bad Optimus isn't all too thrilled about it's revival.  
> Prowl and Jazz are conspicuously absent.

**Stamp of Approval**

It was all Ratchet could do not to burst out laughing. 

Optimus Prime stood before him in the med-bay glaring daggers at him and daring him to even smile at the state of the larger mech. Ratchet, for his part, tried his best to keep a straight face even as his lips twitched at the sight of the glorious leader of the Autobots currently dripping multicolored paint from his chassis. 

"Should I bother asking?"

"Not if you value functioning," Prime growled as he frowned darkly at where Wheeljack stood chuckling as he mixed a solvent concoction together. "I'm going to string Sideswipe up from the ceiling by his spoiler."

"What makes you think it was Sideswipe?"

"Who else would come up with such a childish prank?"

Ratchet scrutinized the paint and pattern his commander currently wore, dabbing a bit on his finger to examine more closely. "I'm narrowing it down, but I think I can safely say it wasn't Sideswipe."

Prime frowned darkly through the rainbow hues. "One Sideswipe playing pranks is more than enough. I don't need more clowns in this army."

Wheeljack came up with a sponge and the solvent. "Alright, don't sweat it, Optimus. This should do the trick." He swiped the solvent-damp sponge along Prime's forearm, where the paint had dried, then his fins flashed. "Huh..." He rubbed harder, but the sponge remained clean and the bright, glossy hues remained. He tried an area where the paint was still wet, but only succeeded in smearing it more. "Well I guess we know it's not regular Earth paint."

"Then what the slag is it?" Prime growled.

"I've only seen this once before," the engineer admitted. 

"Wheeljack."

"Basically, it's a step up from regular paint. This kind tends to stick better to the base metal and doesn't chip or get scratched so easily. Easy enough to make if you know the formula, which was a closely guarded secret."

Ratchet nodded. "The formula was only known to natives of a particular sector of Cybertron and they were very careful not to let the details slip out. It gave them an edge up over Iacon when it came to good quality aesethetic and detailing work. 

"You're still not answering my question of who on base would have access to paint like that now."

The medic smirked. "Did you ever hear of what happened to Sentinel Prime not long after he commanded the evacuation of the border towns?"

"Well I know of the evacuation. I opposed it. A lot of bots did. It meant abandoning injured and defenseless civilians to Decepticon bombardment." He inclined his head as Wheeljack went off to mix up the correct solvent, leaving Ratchet to keep Prime occupied. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"See, not all mechs followed Sentinel's orders to evacuate. There were a few - including a notable two - who stayed behind to get everyone out and to safe areas." Ratchet half-sat on his desk. "Sentinel didn't like his orders being defied so he punished those mechs who disobeyed him. Sewer duty if I recall."

Prime shook his head. "He was a terrible commander."

"Well those two mechs in particular took offense at being punished for saving lives, so they waited till Sentinel to make a public appearance to the troops and rigged a vat of this paint to empty on him when he stood up to give his speech." Ratchet chuckled at the memory. "You got lucky with the rainbow colors. Sentinel got a putrid green, and I have a feeling there were other things mixed in with the paint, because it reeked, let me tell you."

The larger mech winced. "So you're basically telling me I should be glad I don't have such troublemakers on board?"

"Oh please, you personally brought them on."

Prime gaped. "I... what?! But who?"

"Only a few mechs served under Sentinel and lived to tell about it." Ratchet got up to fetch some rags as Wheeljack returned with the correct solvent. "In fact you partly owe your position as Prime to them."

Wheeljack chuckled. "They've been pretty easy on ya, come to think of it. First prank they've pulled on ya since you took up leadership. At least the paint wasn't mixed with a bonding agent that stuck to your base protoform layers. Sentinel was in medical for a week."

"I'm amazed no one caught them."

Ratchet snorted. "Please. One's a cunning, charming weasel from Lower Polyhex; the other's one of the greatest minds to ever come out of Praxus. I dare you to try pinning this one on them."

Wheeljack started to laugh as he cleaned off the paint, then paused. "Uh oh."

Prime scowled. "What now?"

"Well the formula said it would remove all paint." The engineer shrugged and kept cleaning. "It really does remove ALL the paint."

This time Ratchet couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him. "Looks like they were trying to tell you that you needed a new paint job. Never mind. I'm sure Hoist would be delighted to restore you to your original color scheme."

=====

Outside on the mountainside, Jazz inclined his head. 

"Hey Prowl?"

"Yes, Jazz?"

"You and I still got some days off right?"

"I believe we do. Why?"

"Figured Australia's nice this time o' year. Would be nice to see what's happenin' on the other side of the world."

Prowl smiled knowingly. "Excellent idea. I'll make the preparations."

~ END.


	6. Passing the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Undercover  
> Rating: M (sex between two consenting women... kind of, sort of in public)  
> Verse: G1 AU  
> Notes: Transformers as humans. Genderbending
> 
> Jazz gets bored during a stakeout and decides to have some fun with Prowl. Mostly PWP.

**Passing the Time**

Stake-outs were boring as slag, Jazz thought as she raised her arms and gave this temporary human female body a good stretch, before settling back again to watch the road. Didn’t matter what form she was in, sitting around and waiting for something to happen was only slightly less boring than watching paint peel.

From beside her, an equally human female Prowl cleared her throat and side-eyed her. “Please stop doing that.”

Jazz only grinned. “Why? Distractin’ ya?”

“Yes.”

“At least I’m more interesting to watch than the road, right?”

Prowl merely rolled her eyes with a soft grunt and went back to scanning their surroundings, her blue-grey eyes looking out for anything amiss – not too hard to spot given that the area they were parked in was practically deserted, even if it was badly lit.

Jazz sat up straight in her seat then and rolled her shoulders back, making sure her chest thrust out a little, and was rewarded when Prowl flicked her eyes in her direction again.

“Jazz, please-.”

“Maybe they called it off. Are we even in the right place?” Jazz faced her partner. “Because we’ve been here hours -”

“- two hours.”

“- and nothing’s happened.”

Prowl sighed. “We knew it was going to be a long night.” She ran her hand through her dark blonde hair and tried to ignore Jazz undoing a button on her shirt.

Jazz unclipped her hair and let the dark brown locks fall around her shoulders. “Admit it, you’re bored as slag, too.”

“There’s not much we can do about it- Jazz! What are you doing?!” Prowl exclaimed as Jazz proceeded to straddle her lap. 

“Keepin’ us occupied for a while.”

“This is not appropriate; we’re supposed to be undercover!”

“Oh relax. If anyone passes, they’re gonna see a horny couple gettin’ it on in a dark street and walk away faster than you can say ‘move along, nothin’ t’see here’.” Jazz’s lips captured the other’s before Prowl could protest any further.

The blonde allowed the kiss, leaning into it, before sitting up and gently pushing Jazz back against the steering wheel. “Please get off me,” she said evenly, pulling her legs out from under Jazz when the brunette shifted her weight off them, before climbing over to the back seat.

Jazz blinked. “Okay, then. I’m sorry. I thought you might be interested, given how you were lookin’ at me -”

“Are you joining me or not?”

“Oh.”

This time, as Jazz straddled her lap again, it was Prowl who initiated the kiss, tugging her partner’s head down and kissing her intensely until Jazz swore later that she saw stars. The temperature in the car increased as they kissed passionately, and Jazz was the first to send her shirt to the front seat. Prowl’s joined it soon after, and Jazz finally broke their kiss to run her tongue over the pale neck, drawing a soft moan from Prowl.

Prowl’s hands travelled up Jazz’s back and soon Jazz’s bra was draped over the steering wheel as the blonde lowered her head to mouth the fleshy mounds, earning herself a muffled gasp from the brunette.

“And here I thought you weren’t keen,” Jazz chuckled huskily as she tossed Prowl’s bra to the dashboard.

“I never said I wasn’t keen.” Prowl’s grip tightened around Jazz’s waist right before she flipped the brunette onto her back along the seat. “But we should hurry.”

“Gotcha.” Jazz pulled her down for another heated kiss, fingers deftly unbuttoning and unzipping Prowl’s pants so she could slide a hand in.

Prowl faced no such restrictions, merely sliding her hand under Jazz’s miniskirt and underwear till her fingers met moist skin. Jazz moaned as they got to work, hips bucking against them as they rubbed, stroked and teased her to distraction, before she regained some of her wits to do the same to her partner.

“Primus, Jazz…” Prowl’s breathy moan of her name made Jazz shiver. Her fingers sent delicious sensations up Jazz’s spine, and judging from the sounds she made, Jazz knew she was enjoying what she received in turn.

The windows fogged as the heat emanating from them intensified, and at some point during the teasing finger strokes between her legs and the lips on her neck, Jazz realized she was one touch away from climax. Prowl obliged, nipping lightly on the brunette’s ear and sending her over the edge, her cries of pleasure filling the car as her body arched off the seat and pressed further against Prowl’s hand.

The sight of her partner coming undone was enough to bring Prowl closer to her own overload, and as soon as Jazz had recovered enough, her fingers delved to finish Prowl off. The blonde stiffened and then thrust her hips against Jazz’s fingers, her breath coming in ragged pants and moans of Jazz’s name as she went over. A final shudder and she slumped over Jazz’s body, nuzzling against the tanned neck and content to be held for a while.

Eventually, Jazz loosened her hold around Prowl and with a final nuzzle, nudged her up. “Primus, that was good, Prowl.”

“It was,” Prowl agreed, sitting back and taking in the sight of them. “And quite satisfying.”

Jazz snorted. “Please, it takes more than just a bit of fingering to satisfy you.” She cackled as Prowl attempted to splutter a half-hearted protest and started to climb into the driver’s seat. “Lucky for you, I’m not quite satisfied myself.” She tossed the loose clothing to the back.

Prowl started to redress when she realized Jazz was not doing the same. “Jazz… your shirt…”

“What’s the point, if you’re just going to rip it off me again when we get home. Figured I’ll save you the trouble. That is, if we’re done here?” The look Jazz gave her was positively lascivious.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Prowl climbed into the seat beside Jazz, just as topless. 

“And you love me for it.”

“Drive.”

~ END.


	7. Sabotaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Duets  
> Rating: G  
> Verse: G1
> 
> When Prowl loses a bet, Sideswipe tries a bit of sabotage. He forgot he would have to contend with an actual saboteur.

**Sabotaged**

Prowl didn’t often lose bets. In fact, he had such a good win record that when he did finally up and lose this latest bet to Sideswipe, he was reminded of why it was he rarely took bets in the first place. To be fair to him though, the only reason he lost was because of a sudden twist of fate that everyone agreed no one – not even Prowl, strategist that he was – could have seen coming.

“Y’know, you don’t have to do this,” Jazz said from the wings. “Just pull rank and call the whole thing off.”

“I can hardly do that without being called a sore loser, now can I? Especially when the bet was made off-duty. There are no grounds on which I can dismiss it.” Prowl sighed. “And you and Blaster put in a lot of effort to ensure most of this night was a success, I could hardly ruin it for you.”

“Still though, you shouldn’t have to go through with it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

The tactician shook his head. “I consider myself an honourable mech, Jazz. I will, as the humans say, suck it up and get it over with.”

“You’re sexy when you’re being all honourable, y’know that?”

Prowl cracked a small smile. “I thought you preferred me doing all manner of dishonourable things to you.”

Jazz grinned back. “I’ll show ya dishonourable once ya get this over with.”

Doorwings twitched as Prowl gave his words some thought. “Sooner the better then,” he said.

So it was that with great trepidation he willed his legs to move away from Jazz and out into the spotlight that shone down on a lone microphone stand. He wasn’t sure where either Jazz or Blaster had managed to procure one tall enough for an Autobot, then decided he didn’t want to know. With any luck, they’d asked Wheeljack to make one and it would explode before he had any time to open his mouth.

The music started, and he frowned. This certainly didn’t sound like the song he’d given to Blaster, and looking over to the DJ console, he saw that Blaster was nowhere in sight and Sideswipe snickering at the controls, and knew the red mech had something to do with the sudden change in song.

Looking at the lyrics coming up on the screen in front of him, Prowl cringed, wishing the ground could open up and swallow him. But a bet was a bet…

_Spy on me baby, use satellite…_

Sideswipe was going to be in so much trouble…

=====  
Off to the side of the small makeshift stage, Jazz heard the first strains of the music and knew exactly what the song was. An uncharacteristic frown crossed his face – losing a bet to sing in front of everyone at karaoke night was already hard for Prowl, but making him sing that song in particular… Jazz didn’t want to see his partner degraded like that.

If Sideswipe wanted to play dirty, well then… Jazz wasn’t saboteur for nothing, and this was his playground.

Hooking a foot under a couple of wires on the floor in front of him, he yanked. The rec room went dark as everything, including the microphone and sound system went offline. The ensuing confusion was just enough for him to slip over to the DJ console and casually pin Sideswipe up against the wall.

“Y’don’t mind if I take over here till Blaster comes back, do ya, Sides ol’ buddy?” he asked.

Sideswipe glanced at the blue visor glinting in the dark and gave a weak laugh. “Oh, uh… hi Jazz! No, not at all. I’ll uh… go find him right now.”

Jazz released him just as the power to the room came back on and Sideswipe fled. He looked to where Prowl had remained with the microphone during the blackout – he’d had the sense not to go running around in the darkness – and something in his spark tugged at him. He’d never seen Prowl looking so lost and embarrassed before.

Prowl would never let him call off the bet, so he tried to find something to restore Prowl’s confidence enough to finish his end of the bet. Well, if Sideswipe wanted to twist the rules, he supposed it went both ways. Quickly he rifled through the music selection and pulled up a song, and as the music began and the crowd turned their attention back to the stage, Prowl tilted his head in confusion.

Jazz snatched up the spare mic on the console.

_I know I stand in line  
Until you think you have the time  
To spend an evening with me…_

Heads whipped in his direction as Jazz’s voice flowed through the room, and the saboteur stepped out from behind the console, his optics on Prowl. Ahead of him, he saw the tacticians doors relax, and he knew Prowl recognized the song and what it was. He walked to the stage.

_And if we go someplace to dance  
I know that there's a chance  
You won't be leaving with me_

The crowd of bots parted for him as Prowl took his hand and pulled him up beside him, giving him a grateful smile. Jazz grinned and pecked him on the cheek.

_Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place  
And have a drink or two  
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid  
Like I love you_

Confidence rising now that he had Jazz with him, Prowl leaned into his own mic for the next verse.

_I can see it in your eyes  
That you despise the same old lines you heard the night before  
And though it's just a line to you  
For me it's true and never seemed so right before_

Jazz met his optics and joined in with an impromptu harmony that some of the bots cheered at while others catcalled in jest at the display of pure sap before them.

_I practice every day to find some clever lines to say  
To make the meaning come true  
But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late  
And I'm alone with you_

It was enough for Prowl to wrap an arm around his waist and tug him closer, deciding that if he had to lose a bit of his dignity tonight, then at least he would do it with Jazz at his side.

_The time is right  
Your perfume fills my head, the stars get red  
And oh the night's so blue  
And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid  
Like I love you… I love you…_

And maybe take a little of Jazz’s dignity with him while he was at it. He smirked at the squeak Jazz let out as he was dipped and kissed once the song ended, arms flailing for a moment to regain his balance, though he knew Prowl would never let him fall.

Mechs jeered and hooted, along with calls of “get a room for Primus’ sake!” Prowl set Jazz back upright and leaned into the microphone for the final time that night.

“Actually, I think we will. Goodnight and enjoy the party.”

~ END.


End file.
